#happy fiddleford friday

[notsotinyblob]

the pines have aaaaalllll the good alien tech trash

[synthsays]

Monster Falls girlies how we feeling about this one.

Happy Fiddleford Friday Y'all

(Bonus art under cut)

And one for the fiddauthor peeps

[ghostly-fish]

the one time i was able to draw fiddleford on time!! happy friday yall

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Venting about his dad

[s1lly-gh02tz]

Sketchbook page from the other day🎉

[yeedle-deedle]

he's had a long week.

[pinetreeshack]

[zephrunsimperium]

Lookie lookie, Portal!Fidds 👀👀👀 I wanted to evoke his casts and overalls. This’ll be so fun to color!

I’m a little early, but happy Fiddleford Friday!!!

[skipitty-bop]

HOW THE FUCK DO I DRAW FIDDLEFORD

[tazmiilly]

fiddleoford so important to the worldf

[brightdrawings]

Overdue Call

happy fiddleford friday everyone. I hope you all are having an enjoyable day! I've been meaning to partake for a LONG while but haven't had the time to read through and clean this up.

this was inspired by this post by @tazmiilly and I've had that comic in my mind, marinating like a delicious roast. So i hope you all enjoy!

(also on ao3!)

Fiddleford felt numb. He walked blindly as he tried to ground himself, his mind racing so fast he couldn't keep up with any of the thoughts, if there even were any, that were bouncing around his head. Stanford's words echoed in his mind. Words of disappointment, betrayal, and failure would normally weigh him down but Fiddleford kept walking. Hoping that putting distance between himself and that accursed house in the middle of the woods would somehow silence the voice of his best friend.

He had been walking in total darkness, following the dirt road that led through the woods. When he finally caught sight of the bright street lights from town, Fiddleford flinched. For a few agonising moments while his eyes were shut, he had thought he was back in that damned basement, floating helplessly into the eye of chaos. The town at night was replaced by the sight of worlds being torn to shreds, of buildings falling to dust, the horrifying chorus of screams that grew silent as a wicked nasal laughter drowned it out.

When Fiddleford’s mind finally returned to him, the visions faded away to reveal the empty streets of the town. He was on his knees stammering quietly, fingernails digging into the dirt.  Blinking repeatedly, Fiddleford looked around. He tried to find anything to quell the horrifying thought that he wasn’t really back on solid earth. That at any moment he’d find his head still submerged in the blinding light of that accursed portal. That the sound of the light wind in his ear would change to mocking laughter. 

He waited a moment, then another. His nails continued to dig into the dirt repeatedly, literally grounding him as he gathered his barings. 

If this was real. It had to be, he wasn’t floating. If this was real he needed help. 

Stanford.

No, he couldn’t trust him, this whole catastrophe was his-no; their fault. Fiddleford looked around again.

He had spent so much time working with Stanford in the woods far from the town. They hardly had the chance to get to know any of the denizens of Gravity Falls. Stanford was so secretive of his work, of that thing beneath his house whispering into his ear, that he refused to divulge anything to anyone outside of Fiddleford. The rattled engineer searched his mind for anything, a name, a face, anyone he could turn to for help.

Not a single light in sight. Not a person in the street. The moon shone down, poking through the dark clouds in the sky, like an eye watching him from the heavens above. Fiddleford was paralyzed, staring back at the moon, his mind racing. Was this real? Had he even left the basement? He jumped to his feet. Running for the nearest alley way to avoid the terrifying gaze of the moon.

Fiddleford leaned against the cool brick wall. His fingers felt heavy, despite this he lightly traced the indents between the bricks with the tips of his nails. He waited for a moment to pass. For the hideous laughter to pick up again and for the tug on his ankle to bring him back to the basement and have him start this whole nightmare over again. But it never came. He waited for several more moments before he finally took a breath.

The cool night air felt sharp against his throat. Like a mug of coffee, forcing him into a more waking state. He took a step deeper into the alley and fell back on the ground. He looked up and Fiddleford realised that he had walked face first into a payphone. He stared at it for a moment before an idea dawned on him

Moonlight began to inch its way through the alleyway. Fiddleford jumped up and away, avoiding it like it would melt him on contact. Instead he hugged the wall and began to dig through his pockets.

“C’mon-C’mon Ma raised you to be prepared” he muttered desperately before finally finding a few quarters. 

He quickly stuck the coins into the machine and dialled a number he hadn’t rung in so long. This was his hail Mary, if she didn’t pick up he was doomed. His breath grew short as he heard the sound of the phone dialling through the receiver.

“Please answer…. Please please please,” he begged under his breath.

“Hello?” A southern woman’s voice came through the phone.

“Em-emma it's-it's me.” Fiddleford said, hardly able to get the words past his lips.

“Fiddleford? Where on EARTH have you been? You have a lot of nerve callin’! I havent’ heard from you in-” Emma’s voice erupted into Fiddleford’s ear.

“I know. I’m so sorry Emma, but I’ve made a huge mistake.” Fiddleford said, his voice laden with shame.

“Fiddleford what are you-” Emma asked, her tone softening significantly. 

“A great great mistake. I don’t think i’ll make it back. I don’t know if i’ll even be able to remember today…” Fiddleford fell back.

“Hey what’s going on?” 

He wiped the tears from his eyes. He pressed his back against the wall.

“Fiddleford…”

He couldn’t hold them back. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

“Tell me what’s going…”

He fell to his knees, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Fiddleford…”

What was he supposed to say? His wife’s voice was growing more concerned on the phone receiver and that only made the tangle of knots in his stomach grow tighter. Fiddleford’s chest felt heavy as he tried to find the words. It had been so long since he heard Emma-May’s voice, but to speak to her now, in such dire times felt cruel.

“Fiddleford what’s wrong?” Emma-May repeated. There was a sound of crying in the background. The sound of Emma’s distressed tone had clearly upset Tate.

‘Oh Lord Tate-‘ The thought hit Fiddleford like a sack of bricks.

His family in Tennessee, his wife, his two year old son; he had gotten this job to help them. To make their lives easier, but all he’d accomplished was dooming them all.

His hands began to shake once more. The receiver had fallen from his hand, feeling like lead. Too heavy to carry. How could he have failed this greatly? The end of the world was coming and he built a direct door for it. How could he face his parents? His wife? His son?

He couldn’t. Fiddleford curled in on himself, quietly sobbing. His vision grew blurry as he clutched his head.

“I’m so sorry.” He whimpered.

“Fiddleford please,” Emma-May begged. 

Fiddleford’s sobs began to grow more ragged and uneven. It wasn’t long before he started hyperventilating. The sound of his shallow breaths filled the air, soon broken by the soft voice of his wife.

“It’s going to be okay. You’ll be alright.”

 But he wasn’t.

[eikostuf]

i gotta work on the way i draw fiddle

[ghostly-fish]

fiddtober alert!!! i'm also doing cringetober if y'all would be intrested in seeing some of my ocs. (also heres my cringetober Ford piece)

work is killing me so I cannot pump out as much as I want so it'll probably be dumps like this

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Happy Fiddleford Friday y’all! Have the OCs and fan designs that make up my HC Fiddlefamily. Feel free to ask me about any of them!

Teddy McGucket belongs to @slayfordpines . He’s cannon in my eyes

[s1lly-gh02tz]

Fiddleford fans will make every day of the week about him. Friday? Fiddleford Friday. Monday? Mcgucket Monday. Saturday? Stanford’s lab partner Saturday. The list goes on and on

[cthoseris]